


Resemblance

by BurnItAllDownDahling



Series: A Family Affair [24]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs With Teeth, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Spardacest (Devil May Cry), Violent Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 09:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20889974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnItAllDownDahling/pseuds/BurnItAllDownDahling
Summary: They're beautiful, he thinks.





	Resemblance

**Author's Note:**

> No prompt this time. Just felt like writing some weird fucked up demon porn, and experimenting with a different style in the process. The warning is for mention of rape; no actual rape.

It's not often that Dante can actually say he has to work late. Devil hunting is a 24/7 job, after all, and demons tend to be nocturnal; he's always working late, technically. This time, however, it's not work, per se, that keeps him downstairs until the small hours of the morning. The problem is Morrison, who's unhappy because Nero keeps bringing in business of his own, completely bypassing Dante's agent -- and thus not paying the 15% agent's cut. Dante is aware that every agent he's ever had has exploited him to some degree or another. Enzo was a fucking nightmare; Morrison at least has some concern for his well-being, and that of the other hunters whom he serves. But when Dante points out to Morrison that DMC was a failing business before Nero's enterprising ways turned it around, and nobody's going to get a cut of anything if Dante ends up homeless, he sees a hint of guilt in the old man's eyes. He knows full well that Morrison's been giving more work to Lady and Trish because he's sweet on ladies. Dante is, too. But he also likes having a roof over his head, so he refuses to rein Nero in.

They settle on an agreement that Nero will keep bringing in whatever work he wants, but Morrison will also throw more jobs Dante's way -- which might get the kid to slow down, because he only goes prospecting when he's bored. That way everybody gets paid and lots of demons get dead, praise glory Hallelujah. What this means, though, is that Vergil and Nero are already deep into their nightly fuck by the time Dante finally makes his way upstairs.

He hears them before he sees them, as he walks down the hall toward Nero's room, and Nero's big bed, where Nero seems to be making wild, almost frantic sounds while the box springs creak steadily. He can hear Vergil's breathing, too, regular and controlled as a metronome. When Dante gets to the door, he finds some things that he expects to see and some things that he doesn't. He expects, and finds, Vergil on top of his son, inside him, holding him down and reveling in the willing submission of a powerful young demon who is fully strong enough to throw him off -- but doesn't. Dante doesn't expect, but finds, that Vergil has his belt around Nero's throat and has pulled it tight, the loose end wrapped around one fist like a leash. The strange sounds Nero is making are choking noises, gagging, and occasional gasps as Vergil allows him minute rations of air. Nero's on his belly, sheets fisted in one hand, tears streaming down his face. His eyes have rolled back, and his tongue has started to protrude. It looks like rape. If Nero were fully human, it would be rape and murder. 

But because Nero is what he is -- a supernaturally superhuman pain slut, among other magnificent things -- Dante notes the telltale signs that Nero is in fact having a _very_ good time: the eagerly-lifted hips meeting Vergil's every thrust, the fingers wrapped around the belt loop that are perfectly capable of tearing it free but don't. And Vergil himself: body flexing in that just-so way that Dante knows from experience means that he's found Nero's favorite spot and is exploiting it ruthlessly. His eyes drink in the boy's every grimace, but he's also carefully marking when it's time to let him breathe, because even they can die of asphyxiation -- though not nearly as easily as humans, and they mostly don't have to worry about that whole permanent brain damage problem. Or the crushed-larynx problem. Or the broken neck problem. Or... well, anyway, Vergil's taking care. He's also bent low so that he can whisper God-knows-what into Nero's ear. When it last was Dante's turn at this, because of course Vergil has throttled him too, except that time it was with a chain and Dante fought because Vergil liked feeling him struggle... the words were little thrusts of their own. 

_Do you think I can't feel you enjoying this? You're a wild thing, Brother, a monster that cannot control itself; that's what you fear. But you aren't fighting anywhere near as hard as you could, I notice. You **want** my control, and the reassurance that it gives you. A wild beast does not act out of such intelligent self-interest, sweet Dante._

The shiver that passes through Dante at this memory is so swift and so powerful that it takes his breath away. He stares at them, pain-drunk son and cruelty-drunk father, and they are beautiful. He watches the play of musculature across Vergil's back, and the occasional ripples of something else beneath his skin as the demon roils within him, and it is beautiful. He listens to the sound Nero makes and understands that it is a _moan_, being fucked out of him and choked off, he sees that Nero is begging for more with his whole body and occasionally manifesting spectral wings to pull at Vergil so he'll fuck harder... and it is _beautiful_.

Dante needs what they have. But he is not churl enough to interrupt such beauty as it is being made.

Turning on his heel, he heads down the hall to the bedroom he abandoned months ago, once Nero made it clear that he wanted them to sleep with him, thus giving them the necessary excuse to do what they already wanted to do. Nero, a compulsive cleaner, has tossed out the empty pizza boxes and broken equipment that Dante has, well, hoarded, over the years. The bed is made, the floor is swept, and the only concession Nero's made to the room being Dante's is the rack of weapons that he keeps here. (It's in his bedroom because he gets attacked in the night a lot. Less, lately.) Dante tosses his coat over a chair that he forgot was in here, kicks off his boots, shucks off his shirt and pants between one step and another, and then he's on the bed amid the pillows with his dick is in his hand.

Dante doesn't like to masturbate, as a general rule. Mere physical stimulation has never been enough for him; he might prefer the human side of his nature, but his body wants what demons want, so getting off means he has to go deep into thoughts of things that disturb him, memories that both arouse and frighten him, in order to get off. Either sex or celibacy are easier. This time, though, Dante is panting before he settles into the pillows. All that's in his mind are those soft, metronome-steady breaths and bed-creaks. He can hear them from here, still going at it, though Nero's movements have turned into active flailing. Vergil's being a bitch again, torturing the kid into a slow, grinding orgasm, and the vicarious pleasure of this thought is so powerful that Dante bites down on his hand while he works his cock so that he won't moan out loud.

Because he _is_ a beast, damn it, as Nero's pretty demon likes to call him. Beasts don't do foreplay. Beasts take what they need, even from themselves, without qualm. Beasts curse and spit into their palms when their hands prove too callused; they blatantly spread their legs and turn their heads into a pillow; they writhe and moan into that pillow as pleasure inches up their spine, like some kind of fill gauge or TILT meter from an old-school pinball machine. When it hits his brain (TILT TILT), he's going to explode, but until then he works his cock with both hands and pushes his hips up and bites his tongue and it's so good, so good. Pure physicality. There's nothing in his mind except the echo of Vergil's whispers from that time with the chain, and maybe Nero's little desperate cries from some time or another that Dante plowed him through the floor. Nothing to rely on except his own touch. There's nothing beautiful about this -- which does not bother him, because beauty is for Nero and Vergil. Dante's just the crude thing they use sometimes to polish themselves off. And he does not mind being their beast, he does not mind at all, because he would rather be a useful object than useless and alone, but God he needs to get off right fucking now or he's going to _die_.

He's got his eyes shut, teeth bared, hips jutting up in time with both hands grinding down... and the TILT meter is creeping up so slowly that he wants to find the thing and tear it apart. He throws back his head and growls out his frustration, hissing as he sucks air in between, his skin is tingling all over, one gigantic erogenous zone that _no one is touching_, he doesn't have enough hands, and he arches because writhing on the sheets at least gives him some kind of extra sensation --

A hand, claw-tipped, comes to rest on his chest, gently pushing him back down. He inhales, his breath catching, hoping.

_Yes_. It's Nero, leaning over him and smiling. There's a thin white line around the kid's throat, but it's already fading; Vergil is usually gentler with him than he is with Dante, since there's no bad blood between them. Nero smells like sex, like fresh come, but there's also fresh hunger in his gaze and Dante is so glad to see him. 

"You seem to be having some trouble," he drawls. Then he darts down and covers Dante's mouth and shoves his tongue in, so deeply that Dante chokes a little, and loves it.

When Nero pulls out of him -- slowly, with obvious relish -- his hands slide down over Dante's arms. He pulls Dante's hands away from his dick, gently but inexorably, though Dante resists. He's so hard it hurts, so horny that he's shaky with it. Dante stops resisting, however, when he looks down the bed and sees Vergil there at its foot, standing stock-still. 

God. They all know what Vergil really is, and what he has been since the age of eight. It radiates through his skin -- but the skin is _there_ as camouflage, along with the perfect clothing, and the hair with not one lock out of place, and the cold manner. The monster is there too, but always in the shadows, slipping away just as one turns toward it. Now, however, Vergil stands between Dante's knees, head lowered, eyes gleaming in the dark. His hair is a mane a little longer than it should be, still swept back but standing out from his head in a way that he never allows, not when he is fully in control of himself. His mouth hangs open. A thin, bright line of saliva has made its way down his chin.

"Dante," he breathes, in two voices. "How selfish of you. That's _mine_."

Dante's fingers go loose. It's not fear, exactly. Well, it is. They're demons and should always be afraid of each other. But such is the intensity of Vergil's desire in this moment, his unspoken _demand_, that Dante responds inadvertently. Nero laughs softly in his ear, and the rasp of the kid's voice tells Dante what he's dealing with. Of course. Vergil has taken an offering of pain from his son, but it isn't enough for him any more than hands were for Dante. And here is Dante, so open and ready. He lets go of his cock and bares himself at once to his big brother's naked, drooling need.

Nero pulls his arms up above his head and pins them down. The kid's eyes gleam in the dark, too, bright with vicarious cruelty: Vergil's scion and shadow, whom Vergil endlessly, patiently, shapes in his image. But there is only one demon lord in charge here, right now.

Dante's legs are open. He thinks Vergil will just take him that way, throw his thighs up and ride his ass, but Vergil is staring at Dante's cock in a way that... wow, that's new. And now Vergil's open mouth has opened wider. Wider. _Wider_. His jaw has unhinged like that of a snake -- or a dragon -- becoming impossibly huge. The teeth that gleam amid this are sharp, a ring of fangs and incisors, and Dante has a moment for commingled wonder and fear. _Is he actually going to...? God, will he bite...?_ Then Vergil shoves Dante's thighs apart and crouches and Dante's reflex is to try and protect himself. But he has made offering, and there are no takebacks with such a thing, at least not among demons. His body is Vergil's to do with as Vergil pleases. And although Vergil has never, not even once, sucked Dante's dick before, it's clear that he means to do so now. 

Or... Dante _hopes_ it's just sucking. It will grow back, if... but... shit.

Vergil slips his tongue out of his mouth and plays it over Dante's chest. This is possible because his tongue has gone black and forked and is now three feet long. It feels good nevertheless, tickling over Dante's nipples and down the centerline of his body, and he arches in spite of himself, shuddering out a breath as at last, at last, something else touches him. Vergil laughs a hot, sulfurous breath over him, and then he rears up, like a striking snake. Dante aches for pleasure, tries to brace for pain, thinks he's going to lose his mind. When Vergil lunges down, that too-open mouth impossibly throats Dante's cock. Those too-sharp teeth settle just underneath his balls and against his pubic hair. Dante whimpers. Can't help it. There is good pain and there is bad pain and if Vergil does what he's terrified Vergil will do, that will be very, very bad pain.

But Vergil's lips close 'round him. And --

Oh, God.

Oh, _God_. Holy _fuck_.

It's wet and so unbelievably hot, physically and erotically. Does Vergil ever take his demon's shape more literally -- the dragon? Does he breathe fire? Because his mouth is like a furnace. And it's a _full-genital_ blowjob, cock and balls at once and his bottom lip is even stroking Dante's perineum. There's a muscular, inhuman tongue encircling and stroking Dante's shaft with steady, relentless rhythm. As Vergil's head bobs, his mouth makes the most obscene slurping sounds Dante's ever heard. It's also the most _violent_ blowjob Dante's ever had -- Vergil's actually pulling on him as he slurps up nearly to the tip before gobbling down again, and Dante frantically starts lifting his hips in time with Vergil's movements just so Verg won't get the bright idea to keep pulling and rip something off. But Dante also moves because it feels good, though, yeah, _shit_, this is the best. He's not fucking Vergil's mouth, he's _being fucked by_ Vergil's mouth, and it's just as brutal as anything else his brother has ever done to him. Beautiful, perfect brutality.

And whaddaya know? Turns out abject terror is just what that little meter inside Dante needs to start filling all the way up, nice and fast.

Then he feels the first touch of teeth and it's awful, it's perfect, if Vergil bites off his genitals he thinks he's still going to come, albeit while he screams. But then the teeth shift, and Dante realizes Vergil's just adjusting his position. Abruptly the tongue that was wrapped around Dante's cock slithers free and tickles down under one testicle, rolling it gently in a way that probably shouldn't be erotic and actually puts Dante on the brink of orgasm right then and there. Then the tongue is pushing through Vergil's teeth, under Dante's balls, tickling down his skin, and finding -- oh -- finding its way _in_ and --

_"Too much!"_ Dante shouts, trying to buck up, though Nero just laughs and plants a hand on his belly to push him back down. "Too much, Verg, it's too good -- I can't -- " He throws back his head. He's frothing at the fucking mouth. He's never felt anything this good, never, not once in his life, and suddenly he doesn't care if Vergil eats the entire lower half of his body. Worth it for even a second of this. Vergil's throat _growls_ around his cock and that's the trigger. The orgasm starts in Dante's guts, not like a release but like a damned engine starting up, revving from _that feels nice_ to _oh my fucking God I've forgotten my own name_ in less than a second. Then it runs a while, throbbing pistoning churning glory that feels like it's using Dante's soul for fuel. He gives it up gladly. He's _screaming_ and running out of breath and still trying to scream some more, he's bucking in convulsions, some part of him is aware that Vergil's tongue inside him is doing something to prolong this, and the only thing that keeps Dante from clawing himself to ribbons in a mad effort to express even a little of this pleasure is the fact that Nero's holding him down. How did the kid know? When is it going to stop? Vergil's mouth is drinking him down, soul and all; meanwhile Vergil's eyes are drinking in Dante's complete wreckage. His balls hurt and he's _still coming_, he's -- he can't take any more --

TILT

_(boom)_

And Vergil finally lets the engine purr to a stop. Dante flops into a sprawl, coughing and sucking in breaths as if Vergil has choked him. Might as well have. Is there anything left of him, or has Vergil burned him to ash? He feels like ash, ha ha. Yeah, okay, Vergil's burned up his brain for sure.

He's dimly aware of Vergil withdrawing and releasing him from the hellfont of his mouth without chewing anything off; mighty nice of him. Hands turn him over, Nero assisting, and drag his hips to the edge of the bed. He's barely aware of it when Vergil mounts him, probably because it's almost perfunctory; he's already gotten what he wanted from Dante already, after all. This is just pro forma fucking. Vergil likes to mark his territory. It doesn't even burn, wet as Dante still is from the tongue. A few quick thrusts and then a harder push and done, just like getting a shot at the doctor's office, or so Dante has heard since he's never been to a doctor in his life. Vergil's still coming a little when he pulls out, and he deliberately spends his last spurt or two on Dante's ass before uttering a satisfied little sigh and moving away. Dante lies where Vergil has left him, messy and dead. Vergil's killed him. Maybe his heart's still beating and his ass is still twitching from being tongue- and dick-fucked into submission, but his dick has been killed by Vergil's mouth and you know, you just shouldn't kill a man's dick, damn it. It isn't right.

He hears Vergil in the shower. Bastard likes Dante and Nero messy but won't stay that way himself. Nero, meanwhile, lifts Dante -- Dante's bigger, but what is superhuman strength even _for_ if not demon-sex aftercare -- and tucks him under the sheet, since the sweat is drying and the room is cool. He leaves Dante facedown, but wriggles and positions himself so that Dante is draped over his torso, head pillowed on his belly. His fingers thread into Dante's hair, gently combing it into what passes for his style, massaging his scalp. That's nice. Nero's such a good kid.

"Not like you to go off and do your own thing," Nero murmurs. His fingers are strong and sure. "Usually you just jump in, or watch. So what was that, politeness? You know he likes it when you watch."

Talking is so hard. "Just couldn't wait."

Nero chuckles, and one of his hands drifts down to work a little on the muscles of Dante's shoulders. Carefully avoiding his neck, of course, so as not to mark Dante with a dominant rival's scent on a night when Vergil is obviously feeling possessive. "God, I hated to interrupt you. Fucking gorgeous with your dick in your hands like that. So into it. So beautiful." He sighs a little, fingers curling 'round Dante's ear to get the scalp above it. "Fuck, Dante. I'd give a lot to be as beautiful as you."

What. Dante wants to frown, but frowning takes a lot more muscles than smiling, and he's basically one big ball of jelly right now. He files Nero's statement away to contemplate later, when he's less jellified.

He's drifting by the time the bed dips, and shower-fresh Vergil comes up against the other side of him, warm and welcome and back in control of himself. Dante's sandwiched between them and it's so nice. Vergil puts his face next to Dante's ear.

"You're not allowed to masturbate anymore," he says. When Dante doesn't answer -- he's sleepy, damn it -- Vergil bites him sharply just behind the ear. Dante curses and murmurs something to acknowledge Vergil's presence. "You're terrible at it, anyhow. As bad as when we were young; all you ever manage to do is frustrate yourself. If you cannot wait your turn, then prostrate yourself and beg for my favor as is proper."

Dante grumbles at the idea of having to beg for dick (or serpentine tongue). He's not Nero, damn it; he doesn't get off on subservience. Vergil's human tongue smooths over the spot that he bit, and it's just enough of a reminder of that unbelievable blowjob that Dante shudders violently and makes a soft, pleased sound. Okay, maybe he'll consider begging. But only a little.

He hears Vergil's smile. "If I catch you touching yourself again without permission, you'll get more of what you got today," he promises.

Which is... Dante wants to laugh. He can't because he's just too well-fucked, but never let it be said that Vergil doesn't have a sense of humor. Dante knows why Vergil doesn't just appropriate Dante for his newfound oral explorations the way he appropriates Dante for everything else: because this is something new, and apparently something he's not entirely comfortable with. He wants Dante's buy-in. For more blowjobs like that? Hell, Dante will invest his whole retirement pension. (Well, he doesn't have one. Okay, he'll borrow money from Lady to _start_ a retirement pension, and invest that.) Vergil's gonna "catch" him jerking off all over the place now.

"Can I do it for you, if you're not around?" Nero's throat has completely healed. Now his voice is low and purry, hungry, and his fingers have tightened just a little in Dante's hair. Dante realizes with a dizzying sort of awe that Nero is _feeling competitive_. He's been king of the oral stuff up 'til now -- entirely earned, but Vergil's just thrown down the challenge gauntlet. Which Nero's not going to be able to resist. Demon lords. Dante's glad he's not one.

Except... this means that between the two of them, especially if they start trying to one-up each other, Dante's dick is gonna _die_ and go to heaven. Holy shit, he can't wait.

"That would be acceptable," Vergil drawls, answering Nero's question. Dante feels him lean over to kiss Nero. "But if I decide you've failed to discipline him sufficiently, then you'll get more of what _you_ got today."

They both hear the shuddering intake of Nero's breath, and Dante, ear on the boy's belly, feels the jump of his abs as they tighten for a moment. Nero doesn't do subtle, though. "For shit's sake," he complains. "Why don't you just choke-fuck me whenever you want to choke-fuck me? Needing a reason never stopped you before."

"Because you will learn to appreciate it more if you _earn_ it." With that, Vergil sighs in satisfaction, and settles against Dante's back. Bastard. He's got them both hungry for more, now, and he knows it. Dante's going to be okay for a while, but Nero's been resting long enough that he's probably up for round two. Vergil's going to take a nap just to fuck with him. And sure enough, Nero grumbles a little before finally settling down.

It's nice, lying between them, with Nero's fingers gradually stilling in his hair as the kid drifts off, and Vergil's body warm against his back. Easy to feel wanted, like this. Then he thinks of Nero's _So beautiful_, and for a moment, he is trapped in wonder. Can a beast be beautiful? In a family of monsters -- of whom Dante is easily the most monstrous -- is it... possible? He lifts his head, despite the lassitude, and looks up at the two men who have so changed his life in the last few years.

They're both asleep, deeply, as they tend to do when all three of them are together and post-coital. Easier to see how alike they look when they're both at rest, heads tilted together, idyllic --

A ripple passes under Nero's skin. He bares jagged, sharp teeth and growls, caught in some dream. Vergil reacts at once, blurring as he snaps at Nero in instinctive reaction to a rival's threat. It's too quick to see, but there is nothing human in the shape of him for just that instant. Then Nero subsides, and Vergil does too, and they are peaceful again, deceptive in their beauty.

Like Dante, maybe. Okay. He's not stupid. He gets it.

He settles back, shuts his eyes, and sleeps, contented.

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by the headcanons I posted (last entry in the series), and the one that said Vergil was contemplating the possibilities of power bottoming. But... it's Vergil, so the _power_ part of the equation is naturally going to be terrifying.


End file.
